Only about half the apartments were lit and fewer had Christmas lights, just like the last building.
Browsing: Short Fiction
Edward is not expecting her voice. “Why don’t we go out?” They stand with their fingers in the pigeon mesh,…
“I think we’re living in the Golden Age of Fuck Off. I really do. What the fuck even matters anymore?…
Warren’s new girlfriend had a son named Benjamin, always called Benny. The boy’s father had infuriated her by taking a…
“His wig and the heels of his clown shoes added some height, but Alice could reach his throat in a moment, if need be.”
Maxi stands at the morning count with her right cheekbone bulging and purpled, red lightning forked in the white of…
“The plate just bent and bent,” she is saying. “I told them. The Slave Craton’s the oldest rock on the planet. It doesn’t move. It was never going to move. Something else had to.”
From an upcoming collection of stories inspired by the paintings of Alex Colville.
Raj has his laptop open, and he types as Kathy leans towards him, whispering intensely. She catches a glimpse of herself in the cabin’s living room window – pale face framed by red pigtails, next to the burgundy orb that is Raj’s turban…
The first bad Remembrance Day was 1984, the year Frank turned seventeen and his mother, Juliska, passed away. The old…